


Darus One-Shots

by Adry1412



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria - Freeform, Drabbles, M/M, Past Abuse, Rick bashing-I'm so sorry, Rimming, Self Harm, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Top!Jesus, bottom!daryl, darus - Freeform, past-rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adry1412/pseuds/Adry1412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of Daryl X Jesus drabbles and one-shots!! Tags will change if necessary!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty sex. Sorry for the Rick bashing!!  
> This first fic is kinda dark do I apologize beforehand.  
> References to self harm and past abuse!! (Sorry for making Rick a scumbag -idk why I always make him a little shit haha)

He feels awful.  
His walls are crumbling and every emotion runs through his head, every bad memory rushing out and being replaced by pure pleasure. It should've been Rick, should have been their leader warming his bed and kissing his neck. It should've been the man his heart had yearned for long before his brain caught up, but it wasn't.  
His scars didn't burn the way they had when Rick took him. His chest didn't fill with emptiness the way it did when Rick looked in his direction. His spine didn't bend or break the way it did when Rick's commands were barked in his face.  
No, not anymore.

Now he was on his arms, head buried in the pillow while Paul worked miracles with his tongue.  
His throat catches the chuckle when he wonders if that's why he's called Jesus, if his mannerisms and holy talents were the reasoning behind the name as much as his bushy beard and silky hair were.  
He whimpers when a broad stripe is locked over his entrance before that skillful tongue is teasing him open. He should be screaming, closing his legs and running as far from the man as possible, but he isn't.  
"Breathe, sweetheart."  
He keeps forgetting, body tense and shaking with lack of breath and he know it'll make everything worse.  
Long, thin fingers slip in, stretching and stroking him as they attempt to prep for the impending intrusion. It's pathetic, Jesus' girth alone being more than Daryl's ever taken and matched with a length that has the shaggy haired man blushing deep from cheeks to chest.  
But God does it feel good. Daryl finds himself saying a tiny prayer for his new lord. Long having given up on any holy deity, he spills the words towards the sweet eyed man who had consumed his thoughts and heart.

Where Rick had broken something that Daryl swore didn't exist, Jesus had put it back together.  
He picked up every shattered piece of Daryl's heart, welding each with glue that had been mixed with church water, prayers sealing every crack.  
They hadn't touched, not during the long days where Daryl had thought about leaving, where the long forgotten bathroom razor had been taken apart and slid along thin wrists. No, Jesus hadn't touched him, he had held Daryl's shaking, blood covered hands and applied pressure to the slits. He hadn't kissed Daryl, not on the lips, at least, although his eyes had held a million kisses while he held the cup of water to the hunter's lips.  
He remembers the long nights where he swore he was losing his mind, horrible thoughts making him crawl out of bed and into the closet, knees to his chest and tears threatening to fall. Jesus always found him, a sweet smile splitting his beard, as he crouched down and sat across from Daryl. He would talk, about everything and anything. It had been annoying, story after story, word after word, but Daryl learned that he didn't mind.  
It helped him breathe, to catch his breath without worrying about saving face. He'd listen as the long haired man would rambled on and on and before he knew it, his tears had dried and he was talking too. Jesus didn't seem to mind the hitch in his breath or the whispered words, he would listen. He'd never had anyone listen before and it felt nice, made him feel wanted.

Now he knows he's wanted.  
The way the spunky man grips his hips and kisses his shoulder, he feels the unspoken words between them. He still tenses when he feels the other man's erection press against him, flashing memories of Rick from the prison, pushing him hard against the wall of the tombs and taking his unresolved anger out on Daryl. The rough hands and inhuman words, the blood down his legs mixing with the overflowing feeling of love in his chest. It had been wrong, so wrong yet he had gone back like an idiot. Rick wasn't right in the head but Daryl had stayed, bruises and cuts covering his body and sweet words in his head telling him it was worth it.

Jesus shushes him, soft hands working Daryl until he's on his back. Skittish grey eyes are meet with sparkling blues as Jesus smiles. It's not big, not his usual shit eating grin, but a small, sweet one, eyes catching it and shinning lovingly.  
The kiss is sweet, small and chaste but filled with words that Rick could never say; to Daryl at least. Jesus holds his face, eyes locked as he shushes Daryl, his other hand lining himself up.  
The first push makes him gasp, Jesus' member pushing past the tight ring and sinking deep inside the hunter. It burns, the stretch making him want to clench up or at least run away, but he doesn't. It doesn't burn like Rick's hands or the dazed, deadly looks that had once made him blush. It burns like the sand at the beach when the suns been high too long. It burns in that peaceful, summer way that Daryl can only barely remember the events but fully recalls the sensations and emotions.  
He doesn't know when he had started crying, if it had been when Jesus bottomed out or before then, but he felt gentle hands wiping them away. The same hands that had teased him open, pumping slicked fingers past his pink hole, were now brushing the wetness from his dark lashes. Fuzz surrounded lips pressed kisses to discolored eyelids before working down to connect against Daryl's.

Daryl takes a breath when Jesus tells him too, letting the air fill his lungs as Jesus begins to pump his hips. It's slow, the drag pulling at Daryl's insides and making him moan quietly.  
Another kiss is placed on his temple while sinful lips encourage him to let it out, to moan louder if he wants too. And, God, does he want too. He lets him go, head thrown back when Jesus moves faster, his cock hitting that sweet bundle of nerves that drives him crazy. The holy man is groaning, mouth hot and wet against Daryl's ear as he grips Daryl's sides, hips steadily working towards an erratic pace.  
It's too much and Daryl's gripping the sheets, hands and body vibrating as Jesus slams into his prostate. Skin smacking against skin in the most sinful noises and Daryl swears Jesus' saintly ears shouldn't be hearing this, let alone his body causing the wet sounds.

It's sacrilegious, the filthy words spilling the flaccid haired man's mouth. Daryl feels like sin incarnate the way Jesus rubs his hips and grabs his ass, the overpowering temptation making Daryl feel like Eve, hand reaching towards the forbidden fruit.  
He explodes when Jesus bites his neck, shouts loud into the dark bedroom as he feels Jesus swell and spill inside of him, painting his insides.  
They're both panting, Jesus kissing the purpling mark on his lover's neck and smirking before pulling out and watches as a small trail of cum spills out of Daryl. They kiss sweetly and collapse next to each other, hands intertwining together. No words are shared but the loving look in Jesus' eyes tell Daryl everything. He watches as the usually energetic man raises Daryl's hand, placing a gentle kiss onto his knuckles before smiling sleepily.

They stay like them, curled together with gentle hands wandering down sides and back and hair. Sugar sweet kisses, hushed words, and whispered smiles shared between the two men.  
So when the stars rotate over their peaceful Virginia home, walls protecting their commune from the beasts just outside, the men sleep. It's perfect, Daryl's head on Jesus' chest, long fingers brushing hair from the archer's forehead, and slowly rising and falling chests that carry silent breaths of sleep.  
And that's how they'll stay.  
And he feels wonderful.


	2. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a fluffy Drabble of Jesus and Daryl playing hide and seek cause why the fuck not. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I'm trash I know but hey can you blame me?? :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also huge thanks to snazzelle for being a doll and reading this over for me and also for being such a sweetheart who is loves to exchange and discuss AUs with me!!  
> And of course a huge thank you to Bri for being my rock and my angel!! Thank you for being with me and helping me when I was sad and had bad writers block ;u; love you!!!

"Daryl, I can hear you giggling!"

"No you can't!"

Jesus sighs, trying to keep his smile under wraps as he continues to stalk through their home in Alexandria. He tiptoes quietly into one of the room, knowing it isn't the right one but searches anyway. He shakes his head, swinging open the closet door and yelling "Aha! ...Dammit!"   
It's a silly game and although he knows both he and Daryl are way to old to be playing it, he can't keep that wide grin off his bearded face. He already knows the hunter is in the adjacent room, probably in the large closet and behind hanging clothes, or maybe under the bed, but he plays along.

"I'm gonna find you, Daryl!"

"No you're not!"

Jesus didn't know how well this would work. When he first suggested such a childish game, Daryl had huffed and all but stalked out of the room. But he kept asking, kept pushing it until the mousey haired man admitted that he had never played such a game before and didn't know how. A childhood without any games or entertainment had hurt the man and Jesus just wanted to fix it, just a little bit. He could not take away what his father had done to him but, man, that wasn't gonna stop Jesus from giving Daryl just a little taste of what he had missed.

A few days later, and here they were. Daryl hid while Jesus counted to 100 from the downstairs kitchen. 

Skilled feet carried the hunter through the house, quiet as a mouse, as he searched for the perfect hiding spot. He had kept an ear out, listening to Jesus count, when he found it. The closet was small, unlike the one on the opposite wall, and stuffed with winter clothes. Jesus would assume he'd be in the bigger one, Daryl knew, so this one was perfect.  
Daryl skirted behind a box on the floor, pulling the plush jackets in front of him so no one would see him if just glancing in. You'd have to move the clothes and possibly the box to catch a glimpse of the hunter. It was cramped, sure, but it was perfect.

Daryl stilled when he heard Jesus enter the room, covering his mouth to keep the shameful giggles hidden. "Are you in here, Daryl?"  
He shook his head, hair brushing against the wall and jackets making a slight "swish" noise that he stopped just as fast. He knew Jesus couldn't see it but reacted to his question anyway. He tried to keep his breathing calm, not wanting to give away his spot. With one hand over his mouth and the other pulling a plush jacket slightly away so he could see the crack of the door, he tried his hardest to keep his giggling to a silent minimum.  
He jumped a little when he heard Jesus open the opposite closet with a loud, hard pull, all but outright laughing when the slightly shorter man cussed under his breath.  
Jesus had pushed the clothes aside, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Ok ok. So you're not in the big closet." He stood and looked around, hands on his hips and shaking his head dramatically. "Damn! Where could you be, Daryl?"  
"You'll never find me!" Daryl thought to himself, biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing. Jesus was a good finder but Daryl was pretty proud of his hiding skills. And he had to admit, a pang of pride made his heart jump at the fact that he could always find Jesus really quickly while it took the other man longer to find him. He'd never played this and he was happy that he was pretty good at it! If he stopped to think about it now he'd probably turn bright red and hide in shame but he didn't care. This was fun! Same as when they would chase each other in the woods, laughing and tagging each other for hours.

"Ok Daryl. You're not in the closet and you're not under the bed.. I guess that just leaves the small closet!"  
Daryl snapped back to reality, holding his breath and watching through the slit of jackets at the door. He heard Jesus creeping loudly towards the door, his boots sounding so loud in the still air on the room. The door swung open, Jesus' face coming into view and Daryl did his best to not jump. "Aha!....shit. Where are you?"  
Jesus began to swipe at the jackets and sweaters, his hands coming dangerously close to Daryl's side and he couldn't stop the small giggle that bubbled up. The hands stopped at the noise, standing still past the coats and just to the left of Daryl. Jesus turned them, making his hands face the hunter with the thumbs and fingers shaped in the way a ventriloquist would to make a puppet talk.  
He moved the hands as he spoke, "There you are!" Daryl squealed as the "talking" hands began to attack him, working the fingers into his sides as Jesus tickled him through the clothes barrier.  
"Stop!!" He gasped in between laughs, trying to exit his hiding spot and push the hands away. Jesus chuckled, ending his assault and grabbing Daryl's hips, helping lead him out of the corner and into the main closet space.

"I found you." He whispered, holding Daryl to close to him in a hug as the man tried to calm his giggling. "Did you have fun?" He stroked his thumbs over Daryl's hips, looking into the man's eyes.  
"I did." Daryl stared at the bearded man, absorbing all the features that made Jesus unique and that made his heart skip. He reached up, wrapping his arms around strong shoulders, and sighing sweetly.  
They've come a long way from their first encounter but, truth be told, not much as changed. They still teased each and they're first scuffle was incredibly similar to their frequent games of tag they now play. Hell, chasing after the man in the field is no different than when they sneak off to the woods now. Except, maybe after their current games they may settle by a mossy patch and play a more "adult" game.  
They kiss sweetly, slotting onto each other's lips like they were made too. Jesus' beard tickles but not the way his hands do and Daryl can't help but bite his lip, when they pull apart, to control himself. He huffs a laugh, smacking a hand against his man's shoulder before turning and all but sprinting out the room and yelling over his shoulder as Jesus smiles, shaking his head, "My turn to count!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!!! Thank you and I love you!!!


End file.
